"Every Day Every Man Has A Choice Between Right & Wrong, Between Love & Hate
Accidental Hero 8# - A romance with one foot in the past
Previously: After Ben fights with Patrick over his unacceptable behaviour, he is concerned that Verity is avoiding him. Verity follows a lead on the medal’s origin.
Walter’s letters shed light on his love for Hetty and his stark wartime experiences.
CW: Mention of death and bloodshed
My beloved Hetty,
I was never one to bother with church except at Easter and Christmas, but lately, I talk to the Almighty often, making bargains to get me through. I appreciate you praying for me, for my safety.
Some of the fellows question, if there’s a god and he has a plan, why are our days so chaotic and a man’s life treated as cheap?
You remain my greatest treasure dear Hetty, a priceless jewel, a light in the dark to guide me home. Knowing that your love extends to me, no matter how many miles between us, does much to soothe my troubles.
Ever yours with steadfast love — Walter
Walter’s Story
The heat in August was even more blistering than we had experienced previously, and the omnipresent flies crawling over dead bodies, before landing on our food gave most of us dysentery. Soldiers who were forced to carry out night raids or man sentry posts felt as weak as kittens. My hand trembled when I wrote to Hetty.
Dan was having a manic day bombarded with incoming coded commands relating to manoeuvres that he needed to relay, for battalions to move on an enemy stronghold. Having collated all messages, he shared his concerns with me.
“The instructions conflict! On one hand, it’s a mission to clear out snipers, on another a three-pronged attack on the Turkish base Kuchuk Anafarta Ova.
“Some poor sods won’t even have weapons,” Dan shook his head, “just pickaxes and shovels to dig themselves into position.”
We both anticipated tragedy. Even with the allied ships in the bay raining artillery on the enemy, it offered our soldiers scant protection. There was no cover of darkness, as the battle was scheduled to begin at four. We must traverse flat land while the enemy holds higher ground. It was common knowledge that some commanders knew little of the local terrain. I suspected the problem worsened further up the chain, where the strategies were hatched.
I hurried back to my trench to prepare. William, who came from the same locale as Dan, was nervously reassembling his rifle and checking his bayonet. It caught the sunlight and made me blink.
“Good luck Will,” I told him gruffly.
“I’ve put Ma’s letter next to me heart,” he muttered. “Hoping she’ll watch out for me.”
“I have one for Hetty I’ve not yet posted,” I replied, patting the wadded paper in my breast pocket.
But at that moment, a huge explosion threw us both to the ground, showering us with debris. I tried to stand but staggered. My ears were ringing, and sound came at me in a muted way, as if underwater. My thundering heart warned me to run and hide, but my basic training said, where could I help?
Nearby, Will was struggling to push himself to a sitting position. His shoulder looked bad, his arm hanging uselessly. I looked about and saw smoke rising from Dan’s shelter and ran to check on him. Dan’s body had been thrown nearly ten feet from his station. I found a torso without legs, he’d been torn in half by the blast. I stared at his crimson blood leaking into the sand. Dear God, what a terrible waste of a good man!
Gradually my ears cleared, and I heard the field radio squawking. A disembodied voice asking, “Do you copy?” I hastened to plug in a headset then spoke into the microphone.
“This is Private Walter Gibbons. We just lost our radio operator to enemy fire, but I can take over here.”
There was a slight pause at the other end, then a clipped British voice said, “Good man Gibbons, this is the message you need to disseminate A-sap.”
A brown stain marred the envelope of Walter’s final letter. The substance had leaked through, but not obscured the last words Walter wrote to his first love. Hetty would always be grateful to Private Thirst, the soldier who had brought that letter home in his pocket. When he unfortunately died from his wounds, Walter’s letter was discovered in his uniform by a nurse, who posted it to the addressee on the envelope — Hetty Barnes.
“Are you OK?” I was concerned; Verity’s expression was disquieting.
“Yes and no,” she stood in the doorway and did not move.
“Can I get you something? A drink? Do you want to sit down?” I gestured to my computer chair. I’d dreamed of Verity seated on my bed, which seemed an inappropriate thought at this moment.
She lowered herself onto the chair, and settled her bag in her lap. I was unable to get a read of whether her expression was positive or negative, let alone what emotion lay behind it. She displayed a fragility I’d never seen before.
“Your uncle said you took a bus to Suffield. Was that because of the medal?”
Verity seemed to shake herself back into the moment.
“Yes, I always intended to ask Uncle how he obtained the medal, because naturally, that would be a lead for us to follow. But I kept missing him. This afternoon gave me the opportunity; I cut classes.”
She looked at me, before her gaze slid away.
She’s heard about my fight. Perhaps that explained her mood. I’d let her share what she’d discovered, there’d be time to talk about Patrick later.
“A young man, Jason Darnell, brought in the medal, with a few other things of value. He gave Uncle the impression he wanted money quickly.” Verity shrugged. “He may not be very bright, because he gave his mother’s address.”
“In Sutton?”
She nodded. “I thought if I could talk to someone at that address, I’d unearth Walter’s background. Even if nobody was home, it allowed me to scout around their churchyards.”
At that moment, Mum tapped on the door, carrying two steaming mugs.
“I thought you might like a tea, Verity. Are you staying for supper? It’s nothing fancy, just a shepherd’s pie,” she said.
Mum had taken to Verity, I could tell. She had never been this friendly to Rhona. Verity raised a brow at me, uncertain.
“Yes, stay,” I encouraged her.
She smiled as she grasped the mug, “Well, if it’s no trouble.”
“Of course not. It’ll be in an hour.” Mum left us alone to talk.
Private William Thirst was awarded the Military Medal for ‘Bravery in the Field’. Being wounded in action, he was evacuated back to Cardiff Hospital, unfortunately he succumbed to his injuries and died. He has a Commonwealth War Graves Headstone Commision.[The Little Book of Norfolk — Neil R Storey]. The title is a quote from Diana Gabaldon’s fictional character Jamie Fraser. This story is a mixture of researched facts and fiction and originally appeared on Medium. The concluding part publishes on 18 February. Use my list to read earlier chapters.
I know I've said it before, but your ability to pull me right into a story like I am there is amazing.
Excellent job on this Posy. I'm really enjoying this series and if it's wrapping up in a few days, I'll have mixed feelings, only because I want it to keep going. - Jim